Gym

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Most

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“Bible Study” is an inappropriate name for the weekly meetings I attend. That term somehow seems to suggest a serious theological survey of the Bible. “Bible Study” implies that we are comprehending, studying and learning about the meaning and mysteries contained within each and every one of those many pages!
Well, yes, at our weekly meetings we do attempt to do all that, but we do more. Oh, so much more! We laugh, we argue and disagree, we joke and rag each other, we cry, we marvel at the workings of God and Christ.
Basically, we have an unadulterated fun and rich time together!
I have always asked questions, a lot of questions. You can imagine what happens when I am confronted by a book like the Bible. The questions seem to flow out of me ceaselessly. “But….. But…… Buttttttttt….” I have a great faith, don’t get me wrong. It is just that the more I discover, the more questions there seem to be! Why is that? Glory, there I go again with another question! Our Bible Study group has simply accepted that Gaynor and questions are irrevocably entwined!
There are about ten of us in our group. Yes, we can all fit into my lounge but it is a real squash. So we have delightfully accepted Mum’s kind offer of her beautiful lounge for our meetings. Our Bible Study is made up of single women. They have either been widowed, divorced or as in myself and one other case, we have never asked anyone to marry us – yet!
Everyone is completely different in their background and their age. Because of our differences we each bring a divergent perspective to discussions. Things that had played no part whatsoever in my life are suddenly made very immediate and real to me. As a result, everyone’s horizons are broadened and enriched. Gentle laugh – what we do have in common is a complete belief and love of God and Christ!
In life one tends to stay within ones own peer group. One misses out and lacks understanding about many things because one has never had to confront them. One never has to face the problems others have to face. Losing jobs, worrying about money, having a roof over ones head, health issues, being alone……All these problems are suddenly bought home to each and every one of us. We share our problems, our joys, our questions, our failures and our triumphs. Together we are strengthened, appreciating God’s all knowing and ever protective love!
A year ago, I had a ‘disagreement’ with two dogs and the results were debilitating, to say the least! My right hand was put in plaster for six weeks. My left hand had to be operated on twice and was also wrapped in bandages for 8 weeks. I moved in with Mum and was totally dependent on her. She had to bath me, feed me, brush my hair, put on my moisturiser…etc, etc and damned well etc!
“What would I do if Mum were dead?” I asked my BS friends. “I would have to get on a bus and shoot down to my sister in Cape Town. And Liz has three young children who need all her attention, as it is. I’m…I’m just so grateful for the fact that Mum is here.”
I was very close to tears. Betty spoke up. “You most certainly would not go down to Cape Town,” she said, “We would look after you.”
“No, you don’t understand, Betts! Mum does everything for me. I can’t do a thing.”
“Gaynor, what do you think my job is?” gentle Marion asked. “I am a Carer. I do exactly what your Mother is doing for you. I ‘care’ for people.”
“We would do your shopping for you,” said Sharon “and take it in turns popping in to make sure you’re alright. I see that you are using certain fingers. That’s great!” She was right. I was managing to use certain fingers of my left hand that were poking through the bandages.
“It’s just a few more weeks and then you’ll be able to give people the finger once more!” joked Heather saluting me with the rude third finger in the air. “Sorry, Sharon, sorry, oh, Bible Study leader, sorry, sorry, sorry!”
As we laughed I looked at all of the faces folding with mirth before me. And I thank God for them. Recently I found this piece on the Bible written by Henry van Dyke.care,

It summed it up so aptly…..

“Born in the East and clothed in Oriental form and imagery, the Bible walks the ways of all the world with familiar feet, and enters land after land to find its own everywhere. It has learned to speak in hundreds of languages to the heart of man. It comes into the palace to tell the monarch that he is a servant of the Most High, and into the cottage to assure the peasant that he is a son of God. Children listen to its stories with wonder and delight, and wise men ponder them as parables of life. It has a word of peace for the time of peril, a word of comfort for the time of calamity, a word of light for the hour of darkness. Its oracles are repeated in the assembly of the people, and its counsels whispered in the ear of the lonely. The wicked and the proud tremble at its warnings, but to the wounded and the penitent it has a mother’s voice. The wilderness and the solitary place have been made glad by it, and the fire on the hearth has lit the reading of its well-worn pages. It has woven itself into our dearest dreams; so that love, friendship, sympathy and devotion, memory and hope put on the beautiful garments of its treasured speech, breathing of frankincense and myrrh.”

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Shirley Johnston is one of  my closest friends. When I was playing in Camelot we used to share a lift to the State Theatre because she was appearing in another show at the same theatre complex. We both have the same sense of humour and I like her enormously.

In 1991, two years after my accident, Shirley approached me.”You turn thirty in three weeks. Dave and I were chatting in bed and we decided that we would very much like to host your thirtieth birthday party for you. That is, if you’d like one of course.”

What a question!

Shirley and Dave didn’t set a limit to the amount of people I could invite but I don’t think that they were anticipating 150 people. Word spread and everyone I knew wanted to come.

I had decided to make a lemon meringue pie as my contribution to the party. I used to be an ace lemon meringue pie maker and I was sure that I hadn’t lost my touch. I put all the Marie biscuits into an old Pick ‘n Pay packet ready for crushing later. It was a treat using all of Shirley’s gadgets. An electric fruit squeezer drew the juice from the lemons. An electric mixer mixed the condensed milk with the lemon juice. I was really enjoying myself. I decided to make the pie’s base. Crushed biscuits mixed with melted butter. I took hold of the Pick ‘n Pay packet with all the biscuits and looked around the kitchen. I needed a flat, hard surface. The granite kitchen counter top would do perfectly. I gripped the Pick ‘n Pay packet firmly in my hands. Like an axe-man chopping wood I bought it down hard on the counter. CRASH. Shirley turned from what she was doing startled. CRASH.

“What are you doing?” CRASH.

“I’m crushing the Marie biscuits.” CRASH.

“But Gaynor…” CRASH.

“It works brilliantly.” CRASH.

“Are you sure…” CRASH.

I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. CRASH.

“That should do it.” CRASH. “Once more for luck.” CRASH. “Just to make sure!” CRASH.

I opened the packet. Two dozen smashed eggs met my eyes. A strangled cry behind me made me turn around. There was Shirley doubled over with the Pick ‘n Pay packet of  crushed Marie biscuits in her hand. We looked at the sodden mess of crushed eggs and laughed till tears poured down our cheeks. We laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

We had to buy another two dozen eggs.

The day I turned thirty was special. Everyone who was there meant something to me. After lunch I said to Shirley: “I would like to say a few words to everyone, okay?” I stood on a table on the patio so that everyone could see me. I was nervous.

“Because of my accident, my speaking still isn’t quite right,” I began  “so if I say anything and you don’t understand, won’t you shout out and tell me? I can’t guarantee that I will hear you but give it a try anyway.” There was a spontaneous round of encouraging laughter at this…and I was away.

I don’t really  remember what I said. I do  remember the heady experience of being in front of an audience  again,  their faces,  laughing, listening,  hanging  on my every word.  I  finished off  with a  poem by ee cummings. I had learnt it before my accident and amazingly I remembered every word. If I didn’t know that he had died many years prior to my accident, I would have sworn that he had written this poem exclusively for me.

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue dream of sky;and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth

day of life and love and wings;and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any – lifted from the no

of all nothing – human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

 My thirtieth birthday is so clearly imprinted on my mind. I am taken aback by the big heartedness of Shirley and Dave who gave to me such an incredible day, such a treasured memory. I love them both for always giving so much. (Shirley Johnston was the editor of my book, My Plunge to Fame, and she is the scriptwriter for this new film that has just come out: Felix. It has had brilliant reviews and I can’t wait to see it!

Yes, I remember my thirtieth birthday party clearly. Twenty-two years ago I remember the love woven into it.

So clearly.

The post A ‘Smashing’ Time! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

And while you smile

Another smile smiles

And after a while

There are miles of smiles

And life’s worthwhile

Because you smiled.”

My Gran wrote that for me when I was nine years old. When I think of her, I smile. She was that kind of person.

Thinking back on my English travels, I recall the day that B and I set off for Covent Garden to meet friends of mine for lunch. I looked at the woman siting opposite me on the tube. In front of her was a suitcase on wheels. Her young daughter was asleep next to her. I gave her a smile which was met by a blank stare. She had obviously been travelling for a long time and was in no mood for smiles! Two seats down was a rather dour man who was reading a paper and occasionally just staring into space. Our eyes met and I gave him a friendly smile. His eyes shifted uneasily back to his paper. Obviously the tube was not a place for smiles!

We arrived and meandered around Covent Garden. They had lovely little stalls but it was a case of merely looking. Everything was terrifically expensive. Numerous people caught my eye but not once was I met by an answering smile. Oh well, tante pis! London was obviously not a place for smiles!

We arrived at the restaurant where we had arranged to meet everyone. We had no sooner sat down when Suannne arrived. Suanne Braun is a vibrant personality and carries laughter with her. I had seen Suanne this time last year and it seemed as if we had merely paused for breath in our conversation. And there was Jenny De Lenta. I hadn’t see Jenny for twenty-one years and oh, it felt good hugging her once more. I had forgotten the serenity Jenny carries with her. She introduced us to her husband, Craig and her beautiful littler daughter, Milaya. Craig and Milaya went off to do their own thing and left us girls to talk, catch up on each others lives, laugh together and rejoice in being alive. At 2.30 p.m. ‘B’ leant across to me and said: “I have managed to contact your old friend, Lawrence Hilton. He’s in Leicester Square and will be here in ten minutes.”

Hell, ’twas good seeing him again. He makes me laugh like few other people do. I don’t know what it is! We obviously share the same sense of humour in bucket loads. That afternoon loads of smiles were shared amongst us fellow South Africans!

Walking home I smiled at a woman walking towards me expecting the normal blank stare in return. I was met by an answering beam as the woman passed my side. Not just in the mouth. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as if the two of us had just shared a joke. I stopped in my tracks, looking back at her. Then unable to stop myself I went after her, calling out: “Excuse me, could you just wait a second?”

“Sure,” she said, “What’s the matter?”

“You. You are what matters.” She looked a little puzzled. Understandably! I tried to explain. “I am on holiday here from South Africa, and I have noticed that you Londoners don’t smile at strangers. You don’t smile at people you pass on the street or sitting opposite you on the tube.  Londoners didn’t smile, I thought, that is until I passed you and you met my smile with a radiant beam that took my breath away. Thankyou!”

The woman grinned at me. “I have been living in London for the past seven years. But before that I spent thirty of them growing up in South Africa. I am South African!”

I chuckled the whole way home.

“And life’s worthwhile

Because you smiled.”

The post Smile the While! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

Remember the diary I mentioned in my last blog? Reading through it bought so many memories back to life…….

“DM and Ron to dinner. (DM, aka Dee, is Dad’s cousin and was my aunt, Libby’s varsity friend.) Ron urged me to play my guitar thus sparking off one of the most fun-filled evenings I can remember, no credit to my guitar playing! The responsibility lay on the shoulders of the “Three Gals” who had a complete ball. Mum, Libby and DM performed every one of their songs from “the old days” – I’ll build a stairway to Paradise, Easter Bonnet, White Cliffs of Dover, Frankie  and Johnny,….to name but a few.

There is certainly nothing funnier than seeing three old friends trying to remember their routines to the songs and not quite making it! That evening provided me with memories that I will cherish for years to come: the glow about Mum – her back to the audience, Mamma Mia like arm in the air routine which she remembered clearly but which DM and Libs obviously didn’t! Dad’s face wreathed in silent laughter. Libs missing her chair and collapsing on the floor with:” I promise you I’m not drunk!” Ron’s drum solo on the glasses.

All of them celebrating their lost youth.

I love music and now because of my accident my guitar playing days are over, but, you should hear me sing (perhaps not)! I salute you “Three Gals”  and join you in celebrating our lost youth.

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